


after the rain

by Ceryna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff with a small side of angst, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Magical Realism, POV Alternating, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceryna/pseuds/Ceryna
Summary: Kei goes on a holiday trip with his mom and brother, staying for five days in his aunt's ryokan in Nikko. Getting away from the city and into the mountains should be a breath of fresh air– and it is... butnothow he expects. How could he predict that a Kuraokami– a Shinto dragon deity of rain and snow– namedTetsurouof all things, was going to grant his wish?Or, the one in which Kuroo– a god, who has a job of listening to and granting wishes– remembers what it’s like to wish… and how far he’ll go to grant them.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87
Collections: Secret Santa Haikyuu 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radians/gifts).



> hello and welcome to a new fic idea! I participated in a hq holiday gift exchange run by Madeline (@todxrxki), and this story is a gift for the lovely @tetsuwus!! Their prompt was winter-themed kurotsukki + some ~~optional~~ magical realism... which is right up my alley :D
> 
> For tetsuwus: I hope you enjoy this! I had so much fun with the prompt, and as you can see, the word count got away from me- but in the best way possible.
> 
> Thanks to Madeline for organizing the exchange! Additional thanks to @A_Sirens_Lullaby for beta-reading my work and listening to me yell about it <3
> 
>  **Notes for reading:**  
>  *** indicates a POV swap + timeskip  
> * indicates a POV swap (no timeskip)  
> large sections of _italic text _denote flashbacks__
> 
>  **Mythology references:**  
>  While I tried to define some of the spirits and gods within the story for clarity, my descriptions are brief. If you're interested, you can check out the links below:  
> 1\. [Bakeneko](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bakeneko)  
> 2\. [Kodama](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kodama_\(spirit\))  
> 3\. [Nekomata](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nekomata)  
> 4\. [Kuraokami](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuraokami)  
> 5\. [Aquarius Contellation Myth | Ganymedes](https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Ganymedes.html)  
> 6\. [Kitsune](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kitsune)

**Preface**

It was by speaking 

To the dragon of my hill

I caused this snowfall;

A few flakes may have scattered,

No doubt, out there where you are.

— Lady Fujiwara, 670-690 CE, t. Edwin Cranston

# ***

Fog creeps up the train windows, spreading lazily across the glass. It blurs Kei’s view of trees and rice fields, but does nothing to obscure the dark clouds lingering overhead. Grey hovers there– unmoving, unbreaking– and promises a dismal atmosphere for the duration of his trip to Tochigi. 

His gaze slides to his mom and brother, who sit in the train seats across from him– engrossed in a conversation he can’t hear. The music in his headphones drowns out their murmurs, the quiet rumbling of the train, the chattering of his thoughts. 

Kei isn’t particularly enthused to visit with his aunt, but he can reluctantly admit– to himself, at least– that the mountain air and scent of pine are the ideal break from his studies. His aunt runs an inn just outside of downtown Nikko that overlooks a gorge. Complete with open-air baths and forest views, his five days in Tochigi will be a pleasant hibernation from his responsibilities. 

He turns his attention to the droplets hitting the train windows. Rain explodes into rivulets and, in the same moment, streams out of view. He drums his fingertips on the armrest, wishing– no, _wondering_ if it’ll snow–

Thunder rumbles, almost like an answer. Somehow it’s audible to Kei over his music– he jolts upright in his chair, staring wide-eyed out the window. Lightning crackles in the distance. 

“Kei?” 

He turns his head slowly, forcibly unclenching his fingertips from the armrest. “I’m fine, mom,” he says wearily, schooling his expression into one of boredom. “I thought the forecast called for only rain.”

“Mm,” Akiteru says. “I think that’s what Aunty said… but now it looks like there’s a chance of snow!”

Kei lets out a sigh. “Great,” he manages sarcastically, looking back out at the passing rice paddies. “Just great.”

# ***

Tetsurou shuffles his feet, glancing warily around Nekomata’s office. It’s more of a grove, really, with all the Japanese pine trees and unseasonal firefly sprites floating around low branches. He reaches a hand up towards the lights, chuckling as they edge closer to his fingers, but not touching–

“Kuroo.”

Well, that’s most certainly _not_ Nekomata. He turns to greet the bakeneko1, an easy smile washing over his worries. “Kenma,” he says, inclining his head in greeting. “What brings you here?”

Kenma’s eyes glow gold in the dim forest light. “I was asked to remind you about subtlety, Kuroo.” 

Tetsurou bites his lip. “Ah, right.” Subtlety… The thing that was _completely_ forgotten upon catching a glimpse of the gorgeous person on the train that wished for snow–

Kenma sighs, the sound lost to babbling kodama2. “You shouldn’t–”

“Let my charge know I’ve accepted their wish,” Tetsurou interrupts gently. An apology rests at the tip of his tongue– it wouldn’t be genuine, so he bites it back. 

The bakeneko huffs a quiet laugh. “Try not to forget it again anytime soon.” He turns to leave, but looks back over his shoulder with a small smile. “It was nice to see you, Kuroo,” he murmurs, before shuffling out of the grove and into the mountains beyond.

Tetsurou chuckles sheepishly into the quiet. The kodamas turn to him, little heads swiveling and rattling with whispers. “Yeah, guys,” he says, kneeling down to meet the eyes of a particularly clever tree spirit and patting their head. “You’re right.”

The kodama turns their head ninety degrees to the left, chittering once more before returning to their tree. 

Tetsurou peers up, past the treetops to the clouds beyond, and sighs. His mouth curls into a wistful smile, hands tugging at the lapels of his kimono.

He makes a wish of his own.

# ***

Kei’s aunt meets them at the station. 

She drives an old Toyota that, once his family and all their luggage are packed in, leaves Kei struggling to find room for his feet. Thankfully, it isn’t too far of a drive to the ryokan, especially with his aunt behind the wheel. 

They arrive at the inn when the rain lulls, giving them just enough time to unload their luggage and get under the awning before it starts to pour again. 

“Anything to say, Kei?” His aunt’s mouth quirks up in a smirk. “A hello, perhaps?”

Kei refuses to rise to the sarcastic bait– or, well, he tries. “Is the weather usually this temperamental?” he says sharply, raising an eyebrow and tossing his head toward the sudden downpour.

His aunt’s smirk fades, brow furrowing. “Mind your mouth,” she replies, voice unusually serious. “Just because the gods are capricious doesn’t mean you should say it.”

“They’re listening,” his mom adds, offering Kei a knowing smile before linking arms with his aunt and heading inside. 

Kei wants to roll his eyes, but the bizarreness of the train ride this afternoon has him putting habit on hold. He glances out at the downpour, searching for– _nothing,_ and follows Akiteru inside.

He trades his shoes for slippers in the genkan, ignoring his aunt’s jab at having to special order them because his shoe size is “peculiar.” They head away from the regular guest rooms, meandering to a covered short bridge out back that leads to the host’s residence. 

His aunt prepared two large rooms: one for his mom, and one for him and Akiteru. She had the sense to put up the sliding dividers in that room, effectively giving him his own space. While small, it means he avoids sharing a sleeping space with his brother– if barely.

A futon, comforter, and pillows are piled neatly in one corner of the tatami room where he’ll be staying. Another corner features a low table, floor cushion, and LED lamp. Bamboo paper sliding doors make up half the walls– one wall leads outside, the other to his brother’s room. 

Kei sets his duffel and rucksack down gently on the tatami, and opens the doors that lead outside. He’s confronted with the smells of pine and rain. A brisk wind rushes in, one that takes the musty heat of the room and sweeps it out into the evening air. 

An eyebrow quirks up. Biting his lip, he glances warily at the woods outside before gently clapping his hands in prayer and inclining his head. After a moment, he drops the gesture and closes the door, shuffling back to the inside hallway to join his aunt for dinner.

# ***

_Tetsurou stands on a frozen lake. His feet are bare, ice pearlescent beneath them. Shivering, he wraps his arms around himself– his yukata is far too thin– and looks up._

_The moon hangs low, framing the ink-stained, star-spattered sky that he’s longed to touch– and yet, he’s afraid to now that he’s…_

_Oh, right._ **_Where_ ** _is he?_

_He turns in a circle. Once, twice– to be confronted with the same freezing air, icy lake and starry night. He tries one more time–_

_“Good evening, Kuroo-san.”_

_Tetsurou trips over his feet and lands ass-first on ice. Ouch._

_The person before him is clad in a formal slate grey kimono with hakama, and a black haori with gold embroidery. His face is wrinkled, creases of age around his eyes and mouth. “Let’s get you back on your feet, shall we?” He steps forward, wooden geta sandals clacking against the ice, and extends a hand to help Tetsurou up._

_Tetsurou cautiously accepts the proffered hand, clambering back to his feet. “Who are you?” he asks slowly, wincing a bit once the words are out. There wasn’t really a more tactful way to ask, especially since this– person?– already knew his name._

_“I’m called Nekomata_ _ 3_ _.”_

_“Do you, uh, have two tails, then?”_

_Nekomata chuckles. “Of course. They’re not visible while I’m in this form, though.”_

_“... Right.” Tetsurou laughs awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. “Would you mind explaining where we are? How’d I get here, anyway?”_

_Nekomata clears his throat. “This is the winter starfield,” he says, waving a hand at the stars around them, a plateau of frigid beauty. “This is where gods and spirits take on... apprentices, if you will.”_

_Tetsurou nods, slowly, as if it makes sense– his mind tries to comprehend this, whirring at light speed– “Do I need to take a test for this?” he stutters out, blinking up at Nekomata. “I mean, if this is, uh,_ **_real,_ ** _and gods and spirits need apprentices, surely there has to be a test of some kind.”_

_Nekomata’s eyes glisten momentarily before taking on a dim, gold glow. “You would be correct, Kuroo. There are certain requirements to become such an apprentice. The first trial alone disqualifies many.”_

_A lump appears in Tetsurou’s throat. He swallows it down, only for it to reappear– alongside a blanket of goosebumps. Opening his mouth, he asks the question, one he’s sure he doesn’t want the answer to– “first trial?”_

_“How you live out your life,” Nekomata says. “Amaterasu-sama…”_

_Tetsurou is no longer fully listening._ **_How you live out your life_** _ **,** is what Nekomata said– _

_Awareness strikes Tetsurou like a kick to the neck. He stumbles with the realization that he’s died somehow– jeez, hopefully it didn’t hurt– and now he’s been handpicked as a… god-in-training, or–_

_“Kuroo-san?”_

_There will be time to unpack this all later, Tetsurou assures himself. He rises to his feet, dusting off his yukata. “Who will I be apprenticing?” he asks with as much gusto as he can muster._

_Nekomata takes off the black and gold haori, folding it gently before passing it to Tetsurou with both hands. “The dragon deity of rain and snow,” he says. “The Kuraokami_ _ 4_ _.”_

# ***

Kei is no stranger to cold weather. He’s familiar with the Miyagi chill, enough that it doesn’t surprise him. However, on his walk back from the onsen– clad in a yukata, a fresh towel hanging around his neck– the cold _bites._

His breath clouds in the night air, goosebumps skittering over his forearms. Past the low-hanging lanterns and dark treetops, a crescent moon hovers in a sea of stars. 

Scenes like this make Kei pause. His breath falters as he takes in the constellations. Crystalline and clear, the stars glint– despite the fact that they’re light years upon light years away, it feels like he could reach out and hold one.

It would burn him up like a moth to a flame. Trading the rest of his life for one instant of knowledge, of feeling, is something he’d never do. But that doesn’t stop him from wondering–

“If you wanna hold a star, all you gotta do is ask.”

Kei whirls. _Surely he didn’t speak aloud–_

“I hear wishes,” the stranger says. His hair is a mess, leaves and pine needles sticking out of black bedhead. A maroon kimono drapes loosely over his body, framed by a deep grey obi and an ink haori with embroidered gold details. 

“You hear wishes,” Kei parrots slowly, the words foreign on his tongue.

The stranger offers a smile. “It doesn’t matter how hard you hide them. It’s my job to listen.” He leaps down from his perch on one of the large rocks in the garden, landing barefoot in the grass. Frost coats the ground where he steps and dissipates once he passes. Only after he steps up onto the veranda does Kei realize just how tall the stranger is– and, to his satisfaction, _he’s_ the taller one of the two.

Kei looks down at the stranger. Clearly he’s a deity of some kind– who else has a job of listening to wishes, really. He narrows his eyes, feeling a smirk creep onto his face. “What are you the god of?” he asks, tone flippant. 

The stranger blinks. Raising a hand above his head, palm facing skyward, he grins as it begins to rain. Droplets pass _through_ the roof of the veranda and wash over his face. And, just as suddenly as the rain began, it shifts into snow, flakes drifting down and melting against his skin.

Kei can feel something like magic in the air, but does his best to remain unimpressed– as well as ignore the snowflakes that cling to the stranger’s long eyelashes, shining in the lamplight. 

“Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuraokami, at your service.” Kuroo sweeps into a bow, but rises from it abruptly– peering off into the woods, his expression crinkles into a frown. He grabs one of Kei’s hands, clasping it between his, which are _warm–_ and hold’s Kei’s gaze. “Meet me back here tomorrow night,” he says, words rushed. “I’ll bring a star for you to hold. This time, tomorrow night. Okay?”

Kei is baffled, to say the least. But his caution is thrown to the wind by curiosity, so he finds himself nodding. “Fine,” he murmurs, extracting his hand from between Kuroo’s and clutching it to his chest.

Kuroo smiles. “Tomorrow,” he says, turning and jumping off the veranda, his likeness vanishing into frosty mist–

Leaving Kei wide-eyed and bewildered, hand outstretched towards the forest, chasing the ghost of a god.

# ***

“You want me to do _what?”_

The constellation spirit glares at Tetsurou, speaking loudly despite Tetsurou’s gestures to _please shush._

Clasping his hands together, Tetsurou shuts his eyes and bows his head. “A special visit,” he pleads in a whisper. After a moment, he peeks one eye open to meet his friend’s skeptical gaze. “Look, Tooru, this is reallllly important. You’re the first one I thought of for this wish–”

“This is for a _wish?”_ The Aquarius spirit squints at Tetsurou, scandalized. “Tetsu-chan, are you serious right now?”

Tetsurou pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh. “Yeah, Tooru, I’m serious. I– hey, just hear me out, alright?” Oikawa frowns, but waves his hand for Tetsurou to continue. “Look, in all our time as apprentices– and even now, when we’re filling in for our deities– we hear lots of wishes, yeah? And there’s a lot of the same kinds of wishes, and some weird ones too, but this one…” He has to pause, words getting stuck in his throat. “He wants to hold a _star,_ Tooru. He wants–”

“Tetsu-chan.” Oikawa’s voice is musical and lilting– Tetsurou is instantly wary. “Are you _crushing_ on your charge?”

_Oh._

It starts snowing around Tetsurou’s face. Surely this will keep his cheeks from burning, because Oikawa put words to the feelings that flutter in his chest– _oh no._

“It’s the blond, isn’t it.”

The snow turns into a flurry, swirling around Tetsurou’s face to hide it from Oikawa’s view. “Aarghghhh,” Tetsurou grumbles into his personal blizzard. He stays like that for a good minute, listening to Oikawa chuckle in the background as he gets the snow back under control. “Maybe it is him, alright?”

Oikawa stops mid-giggle, gazing upward thoughtfully– now _there’s_ a dangerous look. “Did you forget I assist one of the patron deities5 of the gays?” 

Tetsurou’s mouth is suddenly very dry. “Ah.” There, that’s fairly noncommittal. 

“If I do this for you…” The Aquarius spirit grimaces. “Will you consider it the favor I owe you for you-know-what?”

Tetsurou gasps, but it ends up more like an excited squeak. “You want this to make us even for the _Iwaizumi_ favor?”

Oikawa leans back, achieving nonchalance quickly enough to make Tetsurou envious. “They’re favors in the same vein, after all,” he says, pushing his bangs out of his face and letting stardust shimmer to the ground. “What do you say, Tetsu-chan?”

“Yes.” 

The word slips off Tetsurou’s lips, definitive. “Tomorrow night, Tooru. Make a show of it–” Oikawa winks, and Tetsurou finds himself fighting a grin– “but please, don’t embarrass me.”

Oikawa merely raises an eyebrow, his smile curling up just enough to make it a smirk. “You wish, Tetsu-chan.” He offers Tetsurou a wave before melting into starlight and streaming away– to update Iwaizumi, no doubt.

But his last words linger with Tetsurou. _You wish,_ he’d said.

Tetsurou remembers back to _before_ he was the Kuraokami. While that part of his life is drenched in shadows, he remembers wanting and wishing, hoping and dreaming, endlessly– 

Tetsurou may be a god, but _oh,_ how he remembers what it was like to be mortal.

# ***

Kei is _not_ looking forward to tonight. 

He explains away comments on his apprehension with remarks about how he didn’t sleep well. It’s not entirely a lie– his university schedule starts late and keeps him up late too, so a slow acclimation to their vacation schedule is a plausible excuse.

It’s more reasonable than “I’m meeting a god tonight so I can hold a star,” at least. Because _what the fuck,_ that’s why.

Anxiety thrums under his skin. It prickles the back of his neck, itching under his fingertips. He’d thought the evening trip to the onsen would help soothe his near-constant state of suspense, but even that proved futile.

Kei sits on the edge of the veranda, bare feet swinging, toes barely touching mossy grass. His palms brace against the wooden floorboards, keeping him upright as he stares intently at the woods. The darkness gapes wide, stretching back far beyond the tree line. He wonders when the maw of the forest will spit Kuroo out, but the trees remain quiet. 

_This is ludicrous,_ he thinks, but stays put. Hope has chosen tonight to be irrational. 

A lone cloud rolls in overhead, bringing the scent of rain– Kei is on his feet, head craned up to observe a shadow floating down with a light drizzle–

Kuroo touches down onto the grass, frost dusting the moss around his feet. He’s in the same maroon kimono and black haori as yesterday, and runs a hand through his hair, loosing some leaves and pine needles. He hastens over to Kei, feet skidding across moss. “Caught a ride with a passing cloud,” he says by way of greeting. “Were you waiting long?”

Kei would be lying if he said he was too stunned for words. “Your ride here was a cloud?” His lip curls up, seeds of laughter settling in his chest. 

“Yes?” Kuroo tilts his head in confusion. “It’s, uh, a god thing.”

A snort escapes Kei. “Right.” Maybe he should keep the sarcasm to a minimum, but even that habit is hard to break. “Did your star friend ride with you?”

Kuroo gulps. “N-No. But he’ll be here soon.” He mutters something under his breath, too low for Kei to catch, but continues, “I can grant one of your other wishes while we wait, though.” He holds his hand out to Kei, palm up– his smile wavers at Kei’s hesitation.

Against better judgment, Kei places his hand in Kuroo’s. He’s rewarded with a blinding grin as Kuroo tugs him forward. 

“Over here,” Kuroo whispers, his breath warm on Kei’s ear one second and far away the next, as he leads Kei to the center of the garden. He throws his free hand skyward– and snow begins to fall. 

The flurries drift slowly down– they stick in Kei’s hair, burst into water across his glasses, melt against his skin. He watches as one catches Kuroo square in the eye– the god lets out a surprised yelp, hastily blinking the offending flake away– and Kei’s laughter bubbles over. 

He muffles it with his free hand, but can’t keep the mirth quiet for long. A tear or two manage to slip out– Kei will blame it on the cold if Kuroo asks. But he looks up to find the god frozen, smile crooked in almost disbelief, cheeks flushed crimson–

Kei’s eyes meet hazel and get lost.

# *

In all his time as a deity, Tetsurou has never been looked at quite like _this._

He knows what worship and fealty look like. He was trained to recognize those things during his apprenticeship, to distinguish between honest and deceitful souls– to listen for unspoken wishes and grant them if he could. But _this..._

To behold someone that reminds him _so much_ of his humanity, someone that wished to hold a star– just like _he_ did, many a year ago– his chest tightens painfully. 

Tetsurou doesn’t speak aloud. He doesn’t dare, without knowing for sure what _this_ is, but his curiosity escapes him. The thought is a whisper, lost to the rustling of pine needles and the chime of stardust in the distance– _What’s your name?_

“It’s Kei.” 

The beautiful person answers Tetsurou’s wish unquestioningly. His cheeks are rosy amid the snowfall, honey eyes bright.

Tetsurou forces himself to speak over the lump that appeared in his throat. “Your hand, Kei.”

“... You’re still holding it.”

Chuckling, Tetsurou gestures loosely at Kei’s free hand. “The other one.” That earns him an eye-roll, but Kei complies. 

Once he holds both of Kei’s hands, he shapes them into a bowl, gently supporting Kei’s hands with his own underneath. “Mind your eyes,” he warns, scanning the sky for his friend– 

Oikawa zigzags across the heavens, carving a gleaming path through the sky and loosing stardust along the way– 

That absolute _drama queen._

But Tetsurou takes in Kei’s expression: his eyes sparkle with awe, his jaw a bit slack in surprise. His head follows the constellation spirit’s descent– light trails spattering out like fireworks– down, down, down, until the star collides with Kei’s hands in a blast of scalding air.

Tetsurou grunts under the impact, ignoring his friend’s laughter in favor of seeing pure wonderment alight in Kei’s eyes. 

Oikawa keeps up the light storm, blazing through ceruleans and erupting ribbons of plasma until he turns cyan. After about another minute, he turns off the show and vanishes into starlight–

Only to reappear in his human form, noncorporeal, directly between Kei and Tetsurou. He squints at Kei, pushing off the ground and floating around him in a circle before turning to Tetsurou. “My goodness, Tetsu-chan, you weren’t lying when you said this one was pretty.”

_“Tooru,”_ Tetsurou sputters, dropping Kei’s hands to fiddle with the sleeves of his haori. He should’ve known this was coming when he asked _Oikawa_ for a favor, and yet here he is, floundering for words he doesn’t have and blushing pink enough to be a cherry blossom in the spring– he’s a _winter_ deity, for crying out loud.

Oikawa turns to Kei. “What did it feel like, holding a star?” 

“Why should I answer you?”

Kei’s retort is quick and icy, and Tetsurou can’t help his guffaw at Oikawa’s affronted look.

“Hmph,” the constellation spirit huffs, turning around and shimmering into starlight, starting the climb back towards the heavens. 

Tetsurou bites his lip, holding in his words until he’s sure his friend can’t eavesdrop. “So, y’know, _holding a star._ That must’ve been something...” he trails off, his throat closing up from the butterflies swarming in his chest. He can’t bring himself to ask the very question Oikawa did– just to see if Kei would answer _him._

_What was it like?_

Kei is quiet for a long time. His face scrunches cutely in confusion, and he runs his fingers over his palms, tracing where the star spirit scalded him. 

Tetsurou makes to step away when his wish is answered.

“It felt like time stopped,” Kei says hoarsely. “Time stopped, and I was infinite– yet I was also… small.” He scoffs before continuing, “mortals are like _nothing_ to gods.” But he peers down at Tetsurou, almost shyly, as if he’s waiting for Tetsurou to prove him wrong– 

Tetsurou reaches out, hands gently cupping Kei’s face. “Oh, Kei,” he breathes, feeling rain mist around his eyes. _“I’d_ be nothing if you didn’t believe.”

# ***

Kei wakes slowly. His eyes are reluctant to open, his mind clutching at the remnants of his dreams. He holds on until the threads snap– until he’s conscious enough to realize that trying to go back to sleep is futile. 

He blinks his eyes blearily. The room remains out of focus around him, of course, but in those blinks, he remembers hazel eyes peering back at him– radiant and sharp. Grumbling, he tugs his comforter up further, but finds himself pausing as his hands blur into view–

_An azure sun in his palms, spitting sparks and flaring like a firecracker, yet not burning him– and the gentle hands that protected his, searing the back of his hands in an inferno–_

His pulse trips at the memory– _dream?_ Surely it wasn’t a dream– 

“Kei?” A soft knock echoes from the sliding door to Akiteru’s room. “You up?”

Kei rolls over, faceplanting into his pillow. He drags his comforter up over his head to muffle the noise of bamboo doors hissing open. 

“Good morning,” Akiteru whisper-singsongs before laughing quietly. “Kei, you should take a look outside.”

Edging the comforter down to free his face, Kei squints at Akiteru’s blurry figure. “Outside?”

“Yep!” 

Kei inwardly curses Akiteru’s morning cheeriness– too pleasant to ignore– and fumbles for his glasses. Extracting them from their case, he settles them over his ears and nose, blinking as the world tilts on its axis and into focus. Grudgingly, he gets to his feet, dragging his comforter along with him like a cape. He pauses in front of the door that leads outside, turning a wary expression on his brother before sliding bamboo aside to reveal–

_Snow._

It blankets the garden, a pristine, fluffy coat that has to be at least ten centimeters deep. Cold air blasts over Kei’s face, eliciting goosebumps and a shiver. He glances skyward and squints. Upon determining that it isn’t currently snowing, he drops his gaze, but finds it pulled towards the forest and a speck of maroon–

_Definitely not a dream._

The rain and snow deity leans against a tree in the forest beyond the garden– even from this distance, Kei can tell Kuroo’s wearing a Cheshire cat grin. The god waves, the gesture big so Kei can see it from far away, and then he does something that has Kei convinced his glasses prescription is wrong– something that has him clamping a hand over his mouth.

It is too goddamn early to be on the receiving end of a _deity blowing kisses._

Crimson creeps up the back of Kei’s neck, scorching a path up to his ears. He shuts the sliding door with a huff, hiding his blushing face with the comforter. “M’going back to bed,” he mutters, traipsing back to his futon, now cold– _fuck._

“So you don’t want the coffee I made?” 

Kei hates how he perks up off the futon at the promise of fresh, properly brewed coffee. The crap his aunt tried to pass off as coffee the last time they visited was vile. “... Ten minutes?”

“Are you talking to me or the blanket?” 

“Shut _up,_ Aki.” 

His brother laughs warmly and exits Kei’s room, sliding the separating door shut and leaving Kei alone with his thoughts.

The thoughts are not quiet, they are vibrant– recollections from his childhood and mythology books, folklore from his literature classes– in Japanese mythology, perhaps the most recognized deities are the _Fukujin:_ the seven gods of fortune. Of the seven, six are male, and they’re consistently depicted as elderly and enlightened. 

And they all pale in comparison to the wish-granting prowess of a carmine-clad, ridiculously handsome deity– Kei quickly amends that to _handsomely ridiculous._

Two wishes in two days? Kei figures it’s just luck. But that doesn’t keep him from wondering what kind of luck means his wishes are heard– _and granted–_ by an unfairly attractive god.

# ***

Tetsurou’s shift at the shrine on the mountain was extended until closing. Under other circumstances, this would be fine– but right now, it means he’s late. 

He’s in his frosty astral form, a flurry of freezing rain that snakes between clouds and the night sky, hurrying down the mountain to a certain ryokan on the edge of the Nikko. It isn’t Kei’s ryokan by any means– Kei is just a guest there, he doesn’t own the property– but Tetsurou has no qualms about calling it Kei’s ryokan.

Distinguishing things is important. Tetsurou knows this. The polytheistic aspect of Shintoism means that there are deities for just about every situation– and then there’s the innumerable mythologies and theistic systems that _aren’t_ Shinto– so distinctions matter.

Which is why, when Tetsurou arrives at Kei’s ryokan to find it quiet, the lamps along the veranda extinguished– his eyes catch on a plate left by the door that overlooks the garden where they met. He floats over to the veranda, condenses into his human form, and kneels down. 

Two onigiri wrapped in plastic are nestled by the doorway. Taped to the front one is a simple note, three characters long: 暗龗へ.

_For the Kuraokami._

A smile tugs at Tetsurou’s mouth. Scooping up an onigiri, he gently peels back the plastic wrap and bites into rice. It’s cold, but fresh– the seaweed is crunchy, rice flavored with just the right amount of salt. He decides to save the other onigiri for later, placing it into his hakama pocket. 

It’s been a while since he’s received a direct offering like this. It’s not a mochi or dango from a shrine, not incense or a five-yen coin pleading to be heard– this is informal, and somehow that makes it all the more personal. 

Tetsurou lays down on the edge of the veranda, propping himself on his elbow and munching on the onigiri as he peers up at the moon. He’s so preoccupied with his snack and the scenery before him that he doesn’t hear the soft _shick_ of a shoji door sliding open–

“You’re late.”

Tetsurou freezes, turning his head slowly, onigiri halfway to his mouth and–

There Kei is, yukata rumpled and blond hair mussed, glasses askew on his face. His lips are pursed into a frown, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Uhhh,” Tetsurou says, brilliantly, and starts to choke– wisely, he finishes his bite of onigiri before speaking again. “Yep, I had to be at the shrine until closing today. I didn’t forget you, or anything, because how could anyone forget you…?”

Kei’s aloof expression wavers, but only slightly. He bites his lip. “I wish you wouldn’t say those kinds of things,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes– 

Tetsurou feels the insincerity of Kei’s statement but doesn’t comment. He stands, dusting off his haori and offers Kei a bow. “I’m sorry I was late,” he says. Apologies are best conveyed aloud, after all. He steps back, offering Kei his hand, palm up. “Can I make it up to you?”

Kei raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking up into a smirk. _“Can_ you make it up to me?”

The challenge in Kei’s tone ignites a fire in Tetsurou’s chest. Emboldened, Tetsurou scoops up Kei– one arm under his shoulders, the other under his knees. “Hold on!” he says, taking off across the garden at a run and bounding over to the rocks– leaping up, up, onto the stairsteps of clouds he summoned, laughing freely, and leans down, bringing his mouth close to Kei’s ear so he can be heard over the wind. “How’s this for a start?”

# *

Kei thought butterflies were a stomach-only phenomenon. They should _not_ be fluttering all over his body like they are right now– as he’s being carried swiftly up _a stairway of clouds, bridal style, by a god named Kuroo Tetsurou._

Oh, right. Kuroo asked him a question. What was it, again? _How’s this for a start?_ Attempting to shrug while being carried is probably not a good idea, Kei decides, so he redirects the nonchalance into his voice. “It’s… acceptable,” he quips.

“Heh.” Kuroo chuckles before cutting himself off, face paling. “You’re okay with heights, right?”

One of Kei’s eyebrows creeps up, incredulous. “You only think to ask _now?”_

Kuroo slows his run, skidding to a halt on a cloud. “Oh my gosh, I’m _so sorry,_ I’ll take us down right now–”

“I’m joking.” 

Kei has been watching the city lights of Nikko flicker to the size of candlelights far beneath his feet. It’s a bit disconcerting, but nothing to be afraid of. 

“In that case…” Kuroo trails off mysteriously, leaving Kei barely a second to prepare for the descent. The cloud dips into a gentle slope, forming a long, winding slide that carries them lower and lower, past the treetops to a small plateau on the mountainside. 

Frost-covered trees surround the area. The aromas of fresh pine and rain sit comfortably in the air, and there are warm glows– _fireflies,_ he realizes– as they reach the ground. Kuroo sets him down gently, steadying him around his shoulders before letting him go. 

Kei blinks. The soil is damp beneath his feet, pine needles rustling in the wind like whispers. Shocked that he’s no longer airborne, he stumbles, the ground rushing up at him–

“Easy there,” Kuroo says, catching him effortlessly with an arm around his waist, “or I’ll think you’re falling for me.”

Kei’s butterflies flutter at that, much to his chagrin. “Who’s easy?” he retorts, fighting to keep the blush off his face– although, if he fails, he can always attribute it to the cold. “What is this place?”

“It’s my home, sometimes.” Kuroo meanders towards a cluster of fireflies, holding his hand out towards them like a greeting. “I’ll stay here in the winters, sometimes in the summers for rainy season.”

_Doesn’t it get lonely?_

Kei bites the question back, following Kuroo over to the fireflies– which, upon a closer look, are more like teardrop-shaped glowing orbs. “Who are these?” he asks instead, carefully stretching out a hand towards them.

The orbs flicker, bouncing excitedly in the air. Some of them float closer, landing on Kei’s hand and outstretched arm. 

“They’re firefly sprites,” Kuroo answers, wandering back towards Kei. “They mostly stay for the summers, but some have families here.” He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at the flickering sprites before he laughs quietly. “They like you.” 

Kei moves his other arm out, holding his palm up– only to jump in surprise when he sees a little figure there. The sprites float up off his arm, blinking, and settle back down. “What about this one?” He tilts his head towards the spirit, who rattles their head, tilting it ninety degrees–

“Oh, that’s a kodama. Tree spirit.”

The kodama winks out of view, only to reappear moments later, wandering up Kei’s arm and shoulder towards his head. Kei feels no added weight, but holds his breath anyway, trying to keep still. 

“You should see yourself! Hold on,” Kuroo says excitedly. He creates a sheet of rain with a wave of his hand, closes the raindrops into a rectangle and freezes it into a mirror in front of Kei. 

The impromptu mirror reveals that several kodama have taken up residence on Kei’s head, firefly sprites glittering behind them. “They’re beautiful,” he whispers. 

# *

_You’re beautiful,_ Tetsurou wants to say. 

The firefly sprites wink rapidly, zooming around with excited murmurs– _oh no._

Tetsurou regards Kei’s wide eyes and his mouth, lips parted in surprise– and buries his face in his hands. After a moment, he brings his head back up, peeking through his fingers at Kei. “I said that aloud, didn’t I?” His voice is small, meek, and sheepish all at once. 

The look Kei gives him is layered. Tetsurou detects incredulity and suspicion, anger and resentment– yet also exhilaration– 

And that’s all Tetsurou is able to decipher before Kei steps forward, hand curled into a fist that shatters the ice mirror, a fist that uncurls as it moves up towards Tetsurou’s face– a fist that is a gentle hand by the time it reaches Tetsurou’s chin, tilting it up, up, until their lips brush. 

The kiss is chaste, lasting only a few seconds. By the time that Kei moves back, his breath a warm cloud on Tetsurou’s cold, cold mouth– iced over in complete and utter shock– does Tetsurou realize he _forgot to kiss back._

Kei’s cheeks, dusted scarlet with a blush, are quick to blanch– his tentative smile transforms into an icy line. He hastily steps away, crossing his arms. The glint of wonderment in his eyes has vanished. “Take me back,” he demands quietly.

Tetsurou hears the defeat Kei is cleverly, painfully hiding, and tries to quell his inner turmoil. His figure glows a dull silver, body shifting into his dragon form– a long, pale grey-blue scaled being. “Climb on,” he says, remorseful. “I’ll take you back.”

A moment passes, a heartbeat of distrust before Kei climbs on. 

Once Kei seems settled, Tetsurou pushes off the ground, snaking his way into the stars. He tries to keep the flight back leisurely, slow, as a peace offering of sorts. Admittedly, he’d shown off when he sped across the clouds, carrying Kei in his human form– but right now, Tetsurou has forgotten how to be human–

No, that's not quite right. How to wish, to love, to dream– he’s remembered it all, so vividly that it terrifies him.

He coasts down, hovering above the city and slowly descending to the inn. The garden is snowy, pristine as he’d left it the night before– when, he supposes, he’d still sort of remembered– and stops next to the veranda.

Kei immediately slides off his back and onto wood. 

“I’m sorry,” Tetsurou says.

Sliding open the door to his room, Kei moves inside, shutting it without a backwards glance. 

Tetsurou lingers, another moment or so before he floats skyward. Drifting past treetops and some leftover low-hanging clouds, he snakes through the lower cloud line. Once he’s safely past it, he climbs higher and higher, rapidly getting closer to the realm of the stars–

So... _maybe_ he’s trying to flee from the memories of his mortal life. They clarify, all too much, about him, why he was picked to apprentice the Kuraokami, why he was so drawn to Kei…

Tetsurou– the _mortal_ Tetsurou, however long ago _he_ was– had been in love–

With someone that looked just like Kei. And Tetsurou is no longer sure if that person _was_ Kei, or if his soul’s mind replaced the memory of that person with Kei.

_Or_ it could be the third option– potentially the most electrifying of them all– that Kei shares the same soul of the person Tetsurou loved, all those years ago.

Fear, like lightning, zings between Tetsurou’s ribs. He takes deep breaths, _one, two,_ and reverts into his human form, falling through open air. 

Wind rushes around his ears– if he was mortal, his pulse would be thundering– and sinks heavily into a cloud, freefall cut short by the soft landing. His mind, turned blank by the fall, wakes up– a simple question flickering to life. 

_Is it so wrong to be afraid?_

Tetsurou knows fear– mortal Tetsurou was familiar with all kinds of it– and thinks back to Kei, haloed by fireflies–

_No,_ he decides. He wants to understand Kei, and everything tangled within him – so he can stop Kei from regretting Tetsurou– and prevent Kei from becoming _his_ regret. 

He has an important wish to grant tonight.

# ***

Kei accompanies his mom and brother as they sightsee around Nikko, stewing in irritation all the while. From the moment he woke up this morning, he’s been hounded by the emotions he postponed from the night before– early this morning, rather. 

Regret, embarrassment, disappointment, pain... they simmer beneath his skin, fusing together in a fierce amalgamation that he struggles to contain. There’s resentment too– that burns white-hot in his chest, sinking its searing fangs into his heart. 

He’s bitter with Kuroo– the rejection wasn’t unexpected, but the cold, resigned quality of it was uncalled for. Mostly, he’s bitter with himself– he was so fucking naive, enough that he’d _deluded_ himself into believing that _first,_ gods were capable of love; _second,_ that Kuroo liked him; _third,_ that he liked Kuroo–

And most of all, that he was good enough for a god. 

That thought sits heavy in his mind all day. It drags down his shoulders, keeps his expression pinched into a frown, makes him reluctant to speak, even at dinner– for if he does, that thing that is definitely _not_ heartbreak will spill out. 

And when he emerges from the baths to see _snow_ dusting down from the heavens, a certain maroon-clad nuisance sitting in the white-blanketed garden– it’s too much. 

He walks quickly for his room, ignoring the flash of ink and gold in his peripheral and hurries inside, leaving the cold behind. 

“Kei!” 

Or, well, he’s trying, damn it. He leaves tomorrow– if the god doesn’t leave him alone tonight, at least he’ll be rid of him after that. 

“Kei,” Kuroo tries again. 

Kei says nothing. Sinking to the floor beside the door, he leans back against the wall with a sigh. His headphones sit on the table next to his phone: noise cancellation, within arm’s reach. He moves to snatch them when–

“I was mortal, once.”

His hand falters mid-air, falling to rest on the tatami. 

“Before I was the Kuraokami, I lived a human life.” Kuroo’s voice turns nostalgic. “I wished for a great many things, then. Some were necessities, like food and water, and some were more wants than wishes. Knowledge, courage– love.” 

Kei bites his lip, waiting for Kuroo to continue.

“When I became a god’s apprentice, my mortal memories were washed away. I remembered feelings, but never specifics– at least until last night, when you kissed me.” Kuroo hesitates. “I am sorry I clammed up, I really am. I was overwhelmed by all my memories of love– it felt like I was transported back to that time. But when I stared up at the man I loved… he was _you.”_

This is _not_ happening. This is the most outlandish thing Kei has ever heard, and cannot possibly be true– despite how much that thing between his ribs wants, _wishes_ it were–

“Kei… is your family name Tsukishima?”

Kei scoots closer to the door, nesting his fingers in the indentation in bamboo, ready to shove it open. “What if it is?” he asks, treading carefully–

“Then me being in love with you makes even more sense?”

Kei shoves the sliding door open. He startles Kuroo, who sits, cross-legged, in the middle of the veranda. “What?”

Kuroo’s gaze is bright with hope. “It’s possible you’re the same soul I loved– that you have the soul of the person I loved when I was human–”

“Forget about making sense,” Kei interrupts. “You hear wishes, don’t you?” 

Kuroo nods eagerly. “Yep,” he says, sitting back upright. “Do you have one for me?”

Oh, Kei has a wish, indeed– a nearly impossible one. “If you’re certain you love _me,”_ he says, _“not_ the memory of someone else that _might_ share a soul with me, or look like me…” He points at himself. “If you love _this_ me– then come back to me. In this lifetime, come back to me.”

Kuroo blinks. “Not gonna make it easy for me, are you,” he says, grinning sheepishly.

For the first time that day, Kei’s mouth curls up into a smirk. “Nope.” He moves back inside his room, preparing to shut the door, when a thought occurs to him. “One more thing,” he says, waiting to be sure he has the god’s attention. “I leave tomorrow. Around noon.”

# ***

In a far corner of the winter starfield, Tetsurou sits on a snowbank that overlooks the frozen lake. He peers past his reflection in the ice, beyond the hazy cornflower blue water to the memory of Kei, surrounded by forest spirits, and his slack-jawed, awed little smile– but also the one where his hand hid his mouth, eyes flashing in– embarrassment? Irritation?– and _tonight–_

Oh, that wish... That wonderfully complicated wish.

He sighs, pulling his knees up to his chest– and notices the five-tailed fox spirit that’s meandered up beside him.

Tetsurou squeaks, hiding his blushing face behind his hands.

Kita rests his head on his front paws, carefully eyeing Tetsurou from his careful perch on the snowbank. “If you’re trying to hide, Kuroo, you’re not doing a very good job.” 

“... Humor me for once, will you, Kita?”

“What is humor?” Kita deadpans, startling a confused laugh from Tetsurou, and continues. “The Miyas have implied I no longer know what humor is,” he explains. “Since you laughed, I’m inclined to disagree.”

Tetsurou giggles, shoulders shaking with amusement. Once the urge to laugh settles, though, he turns to more serious topics. “How’d you know I wanted to see you?”

Kita tilts his head thoughtfully. “The same way you hear wishes of mortals,” he says after a moment. “I listen to the wishes of gods, too. But I only answer my friends.” He offers Tetsurou a smile. “What would you like to ask me?”

“What do you remember of your time before you became the kitsune6?” Tetsurou fiddles with his bracelet, twisting the wooden beads. “When you were, y’know. Human?”

At that, Kita sits up, lifting his head off his paws. His figure glows, shifting into his human form– a young man in a silver kimono, hair is white as snow– save for the inky ends. “I don’t recall very much,” he admits. “Especially specifics. How old was I when I died? Did I have a partner or children? What era am I from?” 

Sighing, Kita looks up at the sky. “But the fragments I remember?” His expression turns wistful. “I know what it feels like to be hungry and alone. I know I was hurt– in pain, at times– but I also know that I was loved. I was in love, once.” He turns his profoundly perceptive eyes to Tetsurou, and blinks, surprised. “Although I’ve considered mortal reincarnation, I have yet to wish to do so.”

Tetsurou feels lightning crackle on his fingertips. “Mortal reincarnation?” he whispers, the words closing up his throat.

“For fox spirits like myself, it’s an option to experience a different form of enlightenment– enrich our wisdom, so to speak.” Kita shrugs. “If you’re successful, you can sometimes gain another tail.”

Tetsurou’s hands curl into fists, fingernails carving half-moons into his palms. He jolts to his feet, tripping over the snowbank in his haste and skids out onto the ice.

Kita snags one of Tetsurou’s hands, steadying him. “Can I take that as your wish to speak to me is fulfilled?” he asks, his laughter hidden in his tone.

_“Thank you,_ Kita,” Tetsurou confirms, turning to face the horizon and vanishing into frosty mist–

He has some questions that need answers.

# ***

Morning arrives faster than Kei would like. Sunlight flows through the paper of the bamboo doors, casting shadows on the walls and chasing away the dregs of his dreams.

He blinks his eyes open blearily, staring up at a blurry, maple-brown ceiling. While the specifics of his dreams are lost, the feelings linger– they unravel slowly, coiling in his gut and trembling his fingers.

His… _like_ for Kuroo extends far beyond his appearance and the conversations they’ve shared. It runs like a river with no discernable beginning nor end, and isn’t shallow at all. 

Kei wonders just _how_ much of the folklore and legends are real. He’s witnessed a god wrangle a star out of the heavens, a god that carried him up into the clouds and flew him home as a dragon– a god that granted his wishes, and took his impossible one as a _challenge._

He slouches his arm up over his face, elbow hovering over his nose to block the sunlight from hitting his eyes. It’s a futile shield against the blush spreading over his face as he remembers the events from the night before– 

_Come back to me,_ he’d said. _In this lifetime, come back to me._

What the hell kind of maudlin, mushy place did that come from? 

That question hovers over him all morning– while he lazes on his futon for as long as he can get away with, throughout breakfast, and through packing up the rest of his belongings. It’s a bit after eleven when he declares himself ready to leave, linens passed along to his aunt and the furniture back where it was when he arrived. 

He sets his bags out on the veranda, sliding the bamboo doors shut behind him. Peering out at the garden, he admires the melting snow glistening under the sun– and Kuroo, who’s been waiting for him. 

“Good morning!” Kuroo runs over to the veranda and leaps up onto it, avoiding the worst of the slush-coated ground. “I gotta tell you something– about your wish.”

A lump forms in Kei’s throat. “What is it?” he asks, hiding his hands behind his back, fingers tangling as he prepares for his fears to be confirmed–

“It’s just– well.” Kuroo claps his hands together excitedly– “I can come back!” 

_Oh._

“What?” The question falls from Kei’s lips, breathlessly–

“I’m not sure how soon it’ll be.” Kuroo scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know how long the reincarnation process usually takes, or what even happens once I’m– when I begin again?” His hazel eyes shine with eagerness, and his soft smile makes Kei feel like he’s home.

The sentiment is... _welcome,_ Kei is startled to find, but his doubts keep him wary. “Say you make it back,” he says. “Where will you start your new life? Will you still want me? How would I–” Kei pauses abruptly, biting back the rest of his question. _Know it’s you_ rests on his tongue, and he averts his gaze, looking away.

Kuroo lets out a sigh. “I really wish I knew– heh.” A quiet, little laugh escapes him. “Gods aren’t supposed to wish, y’know. We listen to wishes and then grant them– that's our job. But you, Kei… gods.” He runs a hand through his hair, loosing a few snowflakes. “I don’t just wanna grant your wishes, I wanna _be_ your wish.”

The edges of Kei’s vision blur, salt trailing down his cheeks. “It’s rude to make me hope,” he mutters, cheeks growing warm. “You know that, right?” 

“Mhm.” Cautiously, Kuroo steps forward, extending his arms for– a hug?

Kei tilts his head in the slightest of nods– and he’s enveloped by the scents of frosted pine and forest rains, but the man in front of him– he’s _warm._

“I can still grant your other wish,” Kuroo says, when Kei starts to pull away. 

“Which one?” 

His answer arrives in the form of Kuroo’s hands reaching to cup his cheeks, bringing his head down until their lips meet. His hands crawl up, tangling in soft obsidian, and Kuroo smiles against his mouth before breaking apart– faintly, he realizes he has to go. 

“Kuroo–”

“Tetsurou,” Kuroo insists. "Please."

“Tetsurou.” The name sizzles like lightning on Kei’s tongue. “Meiji Shrine, Tokyo. At dusk.” He bites his lip, embers of hope glowing brightly in his chest. “Don’t be late.”

Tetsurou’s eyes turn glassy. “Never again,” he promises. “Never again.”

# ***

The grove is quiet. The firefly sprites are there, unblinking– keeping their whispers to themselves. Even the pines are silent, along with the gathering of spirits and friends that Tetsurou asked to be here.

“I wish to be reincarnated,” Tetsurou says, for what has to be the eleventh time–

“I understand that.” Nekomata frowns, his brow furrowing with concern, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure about this, Kuroo? Reincarnation is taxing on the soul– although it is possible, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Tetsurou is grateful his haori sleeves hide his clenched fists. “I’m aware,” he grits out. “I know my memory has to be erased, that I’m giving up my divine title and powers– and I know you don’t agree with me.” He sighs, resigned. “I just hoped you’d respect my wishes.”

“We’re not trying to _dis_ respect your wishes, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa stresses, “but it is a bit upsetting, you know? That a friend is going to forget us...” he pauses, sniffling, stardust trickling like tears from his eyes. “We all know that once mortals forget us, we’re gone. They can build temples in our names, write folk tales and make up urban legends– but if they don’t _believe,_ it’s– it’s _over,_ just like that.” 

He drifts over, wrapping his arms around Tetsurou in a tight hug. “You’ve always believed in _us,_ Tetsu-chan,” he says audibly, stubbornly, _“so much_ that I forgot my fear. If anything, it’s our turn to believe in you– that if this is truly what you want, then by the stars, you’re going to get it.”

Tetsurou feels his eyes mist up. “Thank you,” he mumbles, hugging Oikawa back, ruffling his hair to hear the chime of stardust one more time. Over the star spirit’s shoulder, Tetsurou meets Kita’s eyes. 

The kitsune steps forward. “If we’re all in understanding,” he says– avoiding the word _agreement,_ Tetsurou notes– “I’ll preside over the ritual.” With a wave of his hand, he transports the small group of spirits to the winter starfield. 

A full moon glints over the frozen lake, illuminating a circle of candles on the ice that Tetsurou has never seen before. The image of a Torii gate is carved into the circle. 

Torii are symbolic of passage in Shinto, often referring to a change from mortal to spiritual– tonight, Tetsurou is going to experience the reverse. 

“Kuroo.”

Kenma’s voice is quiet as he shuffles closer to Tetsurou. “With your memories gone,” he says, taking Tetsurou’s hand and holding it tight between his own– “your odds of meeting him are slim to none.”

“Yep,” Tetsurou croaks, his throat clogging up. A hoarse laugh escapes him. “I’ve gotten so used to granting wishes that I almost forgot what it was like _to_ wish,” he admits. “But Kei reminded me, and I’m wishing that’s enough for us to meet.”

Kenma nods. “Very well. I’ll be removing your memories, then.” His eyes glow dandelion, irises curving into crescent moons, and he tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow just slightly. “Any last words?”

Tetsurou bites his lip, considering, and then shakes his head. “These aren’t anywhere close to last words,” he muses, “but I do have one more selfish request.” He clasps his hands together, dipping into a slight bow. “Keep an eye on me, will you?” 

When he looks back up at his friends, their expressions are varied– Oikawa stomps his foot, huffing. “Tetsu-chan! You didn’t even need to ask.”

“But you know,” Kita says with a grin, “now that you did, it’d be blasphemous if we didn’t listen.”

A mix of groans and chuckles greet Kita’s statement, but for Tetsurou– 

Tetsurou’s mouth quirks up into a shaky, then determined smile. “If this works, I get to live a whole new life!” He throws a hand up towards the moon, snowflakes drifting down– 

“Kuraokami.” Kita’s form glows blindingly silver. “You wish to be mortal once more?”

Tetsurou nods. “Yes,” he says. “I _wish.”_

Kenma places his palm against Tetsurou’s forehead. “Forget,” he whispers, and gently pushes Tetsurou backwards so he falls toward the Torii– “good luck.” 

The last thing Tetsurou hears is the _crack_ of ice.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Kuroo’s ink and gold haori lays on the ice.

Nekomata collects it, folding it carefully and promptly vanishes– leaving Oikawa, Kita, and Kenma in silence. Or, well, silence save for Oikawa's sniffling.

“Kenma-kun,” the star spirit says uncertainly, “did you really take all of Tetsu-chan’s memories?” 

The bakeneko looks up, his irises dim once again. “Of course I did. It’s the rules.”

“But what about Kei-chan?” Oikawa pouts, wiping away stardust that trickles from his eyes. “Once Tetsu-chan is reincarnated, he won’t remember anything!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Kita says thoughtfully. “When kitsunes reincarnate, sometimes bits and pieces survive the memory erasure. With Tetsurou’s luck, I’m sure he’ll be alright.”

“Even then!” Oikawa retorts, frowning. “He’s just starting his new life now! How’s it going to be possible for them to meet?”

Kenma shrugs. “Eh. I might’ve given him a head start.”

The kitsune and Aquarius spirits turn to him, slowly, with curious expressions.

“I don’t have the power to erase soul memories,” he mutters in explanation.

Kita perks up at that, raising an eyebrow. “Kenma, are you sure you’re not a maneki neko?” 

Kenma just smiles mysteriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manekineko, or beckoning cats, supposedly bring good luck. They are also considered to be a type of bakeneko.


	2. Chapter 2

# EPILOGUE 

One month later

Kei silences his phone alarm before it starts buzzing. He stands from the kitchen table, folds his laptop closed, and heads for the door.

Akaashi looks over at him from his seat by the window, closing his book. He sets it on the coffee table and meets Kei at the door. Opening the hall closet, he passes Kei his jacket before pausing next to his own. "Would you like company today?"

Kei shrugs into his jacket, buttoning up the wool. "Please," he says quietly. Braving the January chill alone hasn't been easy. He's managed so far– but going day after cloudy day, cold seeping into his bones as his hope stretches ever thinner– Akaashi's presence is a welcome reassurance.

They leave their apartment together– down the elevator and the few blocks to the JR Ebisu station, where they wait for the next train. It's about a five minute ride to Harajuku station, then a five minute walk to cross from the shopping streets into the shrine grounds.

On the way, Akaashi asks Kei about his day, tells him about his lectures– idle things that soothe Kei's unease. When they're finally by the large wooden Torii, Kei checks his phone again out of habit: _16:50._

Ten minutes before dusk hits, and the ten minutes after. That's how long he stays. Twenty minutes a day, plus around fifteen minutes of travel time to _and_ from the park– it adds up to about a solid hour.

It's illogical to spend an hour each day, _chancing_ that his impossible wish will be realized– but Tetsurou has spent years waiting, wishing for Kei. Kei thinks he can handle this much.

"Tell me about him," Akaashi requests. He's already heard all of Kei's stories, perceptive enough to infer the details Kei omitted. But he knows that talking about Tetsurou reinforces Kei's hope.

So Kei opens his mouth, the words slipping out into the crisp, winter air. "We met the first night I spent in Nikko. He appeared in the garden of my aunt's residence– she owns an inn out there, so we stayed in the host's quarters." Kei closes his eyes, visualizing maroon, black, and gold. "Where he stepped, frost appeared. He told me that if I wanted to hold a star, I only needed to ask."

Akaashi taps Kei's shoulder subtly. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I believe we're being observed."

Kei's spine goes rigid. "Where?" He takes a deep breath, preparing to search around–

"Don't look too closely, but there's a man with spiky, dyed hair by the bridge."

"Dyed hair?" Kei echoes, confused, but scans in the direction Akaashi indicated. Sure enough, a man with white and grey hair stands next to the pedestrian bridge. He appears to be on the phone, and alternates between looking away and stealing glances in his and Akaashi's direction. "Ah." Frowning, Kei turns to Akaashi. "Do you think he's another modeling scout?"

Akaashi shakes his head. "No. He has to be a professional athlete."

"Why do you say that?"

"Thighs." Akaashi rolls his eyes at Kei's raised eyebrow. "The thighs don't lie," he says, smirking and raising his eyebrows right back.

Kei coughs into his hand to hide his smile. His friend has worked his magic– the tension fades from his shoulders, hidden weight discarded. Withdrawing his hands from his pockets, he pulls off his gloves, the cold biting into his palms.

He held a star, once, with these hands– he held a god in them, too–

"Kei." Akaashi nudges Kei's arm once more, and points back at the bridge. "Look."

The man they spotted earlier is facing the bridge, waving wildly. A figure blurs over to him, hunching over once they arrive– they must've ran here.

The spiky-haired man seems to be in a hurry now, though. He grabs the newcomer's arm, dragging them over towards Kei and Akaashi, and time stops.

It feels that way, at least. For the stranger is clad in black and maroon, his hair a mess of familiar obsidian, his face the spitting image of a certain deity that promised to come back–

_If you love me, then come back to me. In this lifetime, come back to me. If you love me–_

A sob wrenches its way out of Kei's throat, the embers in his chest threatening to combust.

_You came back._

# ***

Kuroo Tetsurou is twenty-four years old and halfway through an organic chemistry Master’s program. He sits in the living room of his shared apartment with his best friend– the one and only Bokuto Koutarou– poring over his assigned textbook reading and pretending the jargon makes sense.

“Why did I choose Tokyo University’s graduate program, again?” 

The empty room doesn’t answer him. A passing train rumbles by, rattling the windows and startling him away from his notes. Above the tops of buildings, the sky is painted pale grey with clouds–

_Bzzz._

Tetsurou’s phone tap dances on the table, screen glowing with an incoming phone call from Bokuto. He picks it up without a second thought– and can’t get a word out because his friend is already talking.

“Kuroo! Dude, you gotta get here, like, _right now,_ you’re not gonna believe this!”

Tetsurou sighs and pushes back from the table. He was thinking of taking a walk anyway– “Bo, I’m good to meet you, but where’s _‘here?’”_

“Meiji Shrine! Bro, you should hurry– I think your blond is here. Y’know, the one from your dreams? He’s standing around with a friend, like he’s waiting for someone–”

Tetsurou barely avoids dropping his phone. He’s frozen for a moment– until the adrenaline kicks in and he’s tripping over himself in anticipation, shrugging into his jacket and fumbling with the zipper. “Oh my gosh, really? _Seriously?”_ And where are his keys? “I’m leaving the apartment right now–”

“Yeah, really! He’s really pretty, man, and he’s tall as hell! Your subconscious knew what it was doing, huh?”

“I guess so,” Tetsurou says, locking the door behind him. The late January air is crisp and unforgiving, but it leaves him awake– “Hey, Bo, why are you even at the park? Wait, don’t tell me you talked to him–” He starts running.

Bokuto laughs into the phone. “I dunno, I just felt like seeing some trees on the way home, I guess? He’s by the big gate by the station, and no, I didn’t talk to him! I called to tell you that your dream blond exists– and also where he is so _you_ can talk to him!”

Tetsurou’s clammy palms make it hard to hold the phone. “I’ll be right there,” he says, hanging up and mapping the streets to get to the gate. It’s a fourteen minute walk– if he keeps running, he’ll be there in seven. 

He pops off a side street and onto the main one that runs parallel to the metro tracks, weaving his way through the people strolling by. His sneakers thud against the pavement, breaths heavy in his lungs. 

He’s not sure when his dreams started featuring this person, much less why he’d woken up misty-eyed after each one– but, if Bokuto is right and this blond is the one, he’ll have his answers in… he skids to a stop at a crosswalk, checking his phone again–

_Another minute._

Tetsurou looks up, spotting his friend in the distance. Once the signs turn green and chirp, he’s off, racing across the street towards him. 

“You made it!” Bokuto cheers. 

Tetsurou pants, trying to catch his breath. “Hhhhiii, Bo,” he gets out before Bokuto grabs his hand, leading him over to the gate– where his breath falters entirely. 

For there, beneath the giant wooden Torii, stands the man from his dreams. He’s not surrounded by glowing lights or falling snow, but he’s _real–_ really pretty, too– and he’s staring at Tetsurou with wide eyes, like Tetsurou is the answer to his prayers.

So Tetsurou takes the remaining steps over, hands clasped together, and peers up into eyes like liquid gold. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This is going to sound strange, but uh, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you in my dreams.” 

_Like that’s not weird at all._

“Okay, so, that came out wrong–” Tetsurou starts rambling. “I mean, this _isn’t_ a joke, it really feels like we’ve met before? And if we did, I’d definitely remember it! How could anyone forget you, Kei?”

Tetsurou isn’t sure where the name comes from– but it falls from his lips like habit, warmth blooming in his soul. 

“Speak for yourself, Tetsurou,” Kei scoffs– but _oh,_ he’s smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story (^^)
> 
> comments help fuel my writing! i'd love to know your favorite line, if you like the story and characterization ^^
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ceryna_writes)


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